Blackmere gets bored easily.
When there's no resolution, people make one.
I hear it in offhand comments. Feel it in pauses that last half a second too long.
"She always was intense."
"He probably couldn't handle it."
"Men don't just disappear without a reason."
The reason, apparently, is me.
I don't defend myself.
That only makes it worse.
Cassian snaps the first time he hears it.
"You don't get to talk about her like that," he says sharply to someone who's known us both for years.
The silence afterward is uncomfortable.
I touch his arm. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because they want a reaction. And because Jude didn't leave because of me. He left because he chose to."
Cassian's jaw tightens. "You sound very sure."
"I am."
But certainty doesn't mean peace.
That night, when Cassian pulls me close, there's urgency there now. Not desire — reassurance. Like he needs to feel that I'm here. That I'm not halfway gone already.
I let him.
Because I don't know how to explain that I can miss Jude without wanting him back.
And I can want Cassian without wanting to be saved.